20 
LAND & WATER 
July 6, 1916 
guess you'd be right. We're that delicate-minded we can't 
interfere, and that was what my friend. President Wilson, 
meant when he opined that America was too proud totiglit. 
So we're nootrals. But like\visi> we're benevolent nootrals. 
As I follow events, there's a skunk been let loose in the world, 
and the odour of it is going to make life none too sweet till it 
is cleared away. It wasn't us that stirred up that skunk, 
but we've got to take a hand in disinfecting this planet. See ' 
We can't hght, but my God, some of us are going to sweat 
blood to sweep the mess up. Ofhcially we do notiiing except 
give off Notes as a leaky boiler gives off steam. But as 
individooal citizens we're in it up to the neck. So, in the 
spirit of Jefferson Davis and Woodrow Wilson, I'm going to 
be the nootralist kind of nootral, till Kaiser wiU wish to 
God he had declared war on America at the beginning." 
I was completely recovering my temper. This fellow was a 
perfect jewel, and his spirit put pur^xise into me. 
" I guess you British were the same kind of nootral, when 
\our Admiral warned off the German fleet from interfering 
with Dewey in Manila Bay in '98." Mr. Blenkiron drank up 
the last drop of the boiled milk, and lit a thin black cigar. 
I leaned forward. " Have you talked to Sir Walter" ? I 
" I have talked to him, and he has given me to understand 
that there's a deal ahead which vou're going to boss. There 
are no flies on that big man, and if he says it's good business, 
then you can count me in." 
" You know that it's uncommonly dangerous ? " 
• 1 judged so. But it don't do to begin counting risks. 
I believe in an all-wise and beneficent Providence, but you have 
got to trust Him and give Him a chance. What's life anyhow ? 
For me, it's living on a strict diet and having frequent pains 
in my stomach. It isn't such an almighty lot to give up, 
provided you get a good price in the deal. Besides, how big 
is the risk ? About one o'clock in the morning when you 
can't sleep it will be the size of Mount Everest, but if you run 
out to meet it it will be a hillock you can jump over. The 
grizzly looks very fierce when you're taking your ticket for 
the Rockies and wondering if you'll come back, but he's 
just an ordinary bear when you've got the sight of your 
rifle on him. I won't think about risks till I'm up to my 
neck in them and don't see the road out." 
I scribbled my address on a piece of paper and handed it to 
the stout philosopher. " Come to dinner to-night at eight," 
I said. 
" I thank you, Major. A httle fish, please, plain-boiled 
and some hot milk. You will forgive me if I borrow your 
couch after the meal and spend the evening on my back. 
That is the advice of my noo doctor." 
I got a taxi and drove to my club. On the way I opened the 
envelope Sir Walter had given me. It contained a number of 
jottings, the dossier of Mr. Blenkiron. He had done wonders 
for the Allies in the States. He had nosed out the Dumba 
plot, and had been instrumental in getting the portfolio of 
Dr. Albert. Von Papen's spies had tried to murder him, 
after he had defeated an attempt to blow up one of the big 
gun factories. Sir Walter had written at the end : " The 
best man we ever had. Better than Scudder. He would go 
through hell with a box of bismuth and a pack of patience 
i:irds." 
I went into the little back smoking-room, borrowed an 
atlas from the library, poked up the fire, and sat down to think. 
Mr. Blenkiron had given me the fillip I needed. My mind was 
beginning to work now, and was running wide over the whole 
business. Not that I hoped to find anything by my cogita- 
tions. It wasn't thinking in an arm-chair that would solve 
the mystery. But I was gettint; a sort of grip on a plan of 
operations. And to my relief I had stopped thinking about 
the risks. Blenkiron "had shamed me out of that. If a 
sedentary dyspeptic could show that kind of nerve, I wasn't 
going to be behind him. 
I went back to my flat about five o'clock. My man 
Paddock had gone to the wars long ago, so I had shifted to one 
of those new blocks in Park Lane where they provide food 
and service. I kept the place on to have a home to go to 
when I got leave. It's a miserable business holidaying in a 
hotel. 
Sandy was devouring tea-cakes with the serious resolution 
of a convalescent. 
" Well, Dick, what's the news ? Is it a brass hat or the 
boot ? " . . 
" Neither," I said. " But you and I are going to disappear 
from His Majesty's Forces. Seconded for special service." 
" O my sainted aunt," said Sandy. " What is it ? For 
Heaven's sake put me out of pain. Have we to tout deputa- 
tions of suspicious neutrals over munition works or take the 
thivering journalist in a motor car where he can imagine he 
iees a Boche ? " 
" The news will keep. But I can tell you this much. It's 
about as safe and easy as to go through the German lines with 
a walking stick." 
" Come, that's not so dusty," said Sandy, and began cheer- 
fully on the muffins. 
fmust spare a moment to introduce Sandy to the reader, tot 
he cannot be allowed to slip into this tale by a side door. If 
you will consult the Peerage you will find that to Edward 
Cospatrick, fifteenth Baron Clanroyden, there was born in 
the year 18S2 as his second son Ludovick Gu.stavus Arbuthnot. 
commonly called the Honourable, etc. The said son was 
educated'at Eton and New College, Oxford, was a captain in 
the Twoeddale Yeomanry, and served for some years as hon- 
orary attache at various embassies. The Peerage will stop 
short at this point, but that is by no means the end of the 
story. For the rest you must consult very different authori- 
ties. Lean brown men from the ends of the earth may be 
seen on the London pavements now and then in creased 
clothes, walking with the light outland step, slinking into 
clubs as if they could not remember whether or not they be- 
longed to them. From them you may get news of Sandy. 
Better still, you will hear of him at little forgotten fishing ^ 
ports where the Albanian mountains dip to the Adriatic. If 
you struck a Mecca pilgrimage the odds are you would meet 
a dozen of Sandy's friends in it. In shepherds huts m the 
Caucasus you will find bits of his cast-off clothing, for he has 
a knack of shedding garments as he goes. In the caravan- 
serais of Bokhara and Samarkand he is known, and there are 
shikaris in the Pamirs who still speak of him round their 
fires. If you were going to visit Petrograd or Rome or Cairo 
it would be no use asking him for introductions ; if he gave 
them, they would lead you into strange haunts. But if Fate 
compelled you to go toLhissaor Yarkand or Seistan he could 
map out your road for you and pass the word to potent friends. 
We call ourselves insular, but the truth is that we are the only 
race on earth that can produce men capable of getting inside 
the skin of remote peoples. Perhaps the Scotch are better 
than the English, but we're all a thousand per cent, better 
than anybody else. Sandy was the wandering Scot carried 
to the pitch of genius. In old days he would have led a 
crusade or discovered a new road to the Indies To-day he 
merely roamed as the spirit moved him. till the war swept him 
up and dumped him down in my battalion. 
I got out Sir Walter's half-sheet of note-paper. It was not 
the oriRinal— naturally he wanted to keep that— but it was 
a careful tracing. I took it that Harry BuUivant had not 
written down the words as a memo for his own use. People 
who follow his career have good memories. He must have 
written them in order that, if he perished and his body was 
found, his friends might get a clue. Wherefore, I argued, 
the words must be intelligible to somebody or other of our 
persuasion, and likewise they must be pretty well gibberish 
to any Turk or German that found them. 
The first " Kasredin," I could make nothing of. 
I asked Sandy. 
" You mean Nasr-ed-din," he said, still munching crumpets. 
" What's that." 1 asked sharply. 
" He's the General believed to be commanding against us 
in Mesopotamia. I remember him years ago in Aleppo. He 
talked bad French and drank the sweetest of sweet cham- 
Da.£rnc . 
I looked closely at the paper. The " K " was unmistak- 
" Kasredin is nothing. It means in Arabic the House of 
Faith and might cover anything from Hagia Sofia to a subur- 
ban villa. What's your next puzzle Dick. Have you 
entered for a prize competition in a weekly paper ? " 
" Cancer," I read out. 
" It is Latin for a crab. Likewise it is the name of a pain- 
ful disease. It is also a sign of the Zodiac." 
" v. I." I read. 
" There you have me. It sounds like the number of a 
motor car. " The poUce would find out for you. I call this 
rather a difficult competition. What's the prize ? " 
I passed him the paper. " Who wrote it ? It looks as if 
he had been in a hurry." 
" Harry BuUivant." I said. 
Sandy's face grew solemn. " Old Harry. He was at my 
tutor's. The best fellow God ever made. I saw his name 
in the casualty list before Kut. . . . Harry didn't do 
things without a purpose. What's the story of this paper ? " 
" Wait till after dinner," I said. " I'm going to change 
and have a bath. There's an American coming to dine, and 
he's part of the business." 
Mr. Blenkiron arrived punctual to the minute in a fur 
coat like a Russian prince's. Now that I saw him on his feet 
I could judge him better. He had a fat face but was not too 
plump in figure and very muscular wrists showed below his 
shirt-cuffs. 1 fancied that, if the occasion called, he might be 
a good man with his hands. 
Sandy and I ate a hearty meal, but the American picked 
